Here I discuss my forays into the world of knitting and designing, and probably will go off-topic quite a bit. Rants and stories to follow. Please comment on my blog, I'd love to make some friends here!

Friday, February 8, 2013

Well, I found out this morning you're in jail. I'm surprised your mother told me, but then every morning when she catches me before I leave for work the first thing she says is "Have you heard anything about ____?" No, I never do. They'd call her first anyway, but she's so confused these days that doesn't click.

You've been too busy getting drunk and high to notice, haven't you? How much she's failing. Or maybe you just didn't care. You've been taking her money for years and it's been pissing me off. I always knew, but didn't have proof how much you actually made. You fed her so many 'broke' stories... when I "helped" you the first time in rehab I saw exactly how much you got in a paycheck. And no, your company has to take the child support out before they give it to you, that's the law. I wasn't doing it for you, hell no. I did it for her, I needed numbers, solid proof that you didn't need her money. I saw 3 trips to the grocery store in one day... booze. Your online banking said you hadn't paid the electric bill in 3 months. The phone system told me when you made the last payment to catch up, or rather when you conned her out of the money to pay it. Do you know she panicked thinking she wouldn't be able to buy her medicine that month? But she wouldn't tell you no, and you knew that.

Well karma has really bit you in the ass. You've lost a job most people would kill for, and clearly all those DUIs and driving without a license caught up with you. Yet when my mom asked you if you hated the hospital enough to stop you only said "Maybe,".

Meanwhile, you'll be sitting in jail for her birthday this year. She's older than her years, no thanks to you. Depending on how long they give you, she might not even be around to see you when you get out. I haven't decided yet if that would be a bad thing...

What happened, cousin? What happened to the sweet boy of 13 years who, when I was learning to walk, cleaned up the plant I knocked over so I wouldn't get in trouble? Where is the boy whose lap I passed out in after my second birthday party? The one who dressed up as Mickey Mouse when I turned three? I want to believe he's still in there, somewhere. I know your mother does. It's up to you to find him. Even she can't do that for you.